


Waking To Another Forest

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Just Short Turned Story [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pippin playing matchmaker, Possible Bagginshield, Possible Fix-it fic, Possible Nofur, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death isn't a pleasant experience. But neither is waking to a forest that is not the one you died in far into the past. So far into the past that your Uncle is in his fifties again. And yet that is what happens to Pippin, he dies and wakes in the past. How he got there, he doesn't know but he plans on making it back to his Merry. Merry is left in the present not understanding why his Heart disappeared is a cloud of golden dust. And behind it all, is a god seeking redemption</p><p>This is a compilation of Merry, Merry where are you and A bite of Merry plus any idea's that pop into my head for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Going Down Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Merry and Pippin their lives after the Ring. Pippin closes his eyes looking up at Merry than when he wakes up it's to thirteen dwarves.
> 
> **This story has been rewritten if you read this story before 6/20/2017 start from the first chapter.**

Pippin looks over at his cousin and lover. His mind is racing with thoughts all going in different directions. For the longest time, he heard- from Bilbo, from Gimli, even from Legolas- that he and Merry reminded others of two Dwarrow princes. Two princes that had long since passed from the world of the living. It hurts Pippin's heart to know that he had likely caused people he loved pain. Merry, however, preened like a proud bird to be likened to the 'Lion Prince'. It has been a few years, four to be exact, since Frodo and Bilbo had sailed across the ocean. Life in the Shire wasn't the same for them, wasn't something they could handle anymore. Sam, poor Sam. He pretends to love another when his Heart, the one the Ladies made for them, is far beyond his reach. Rosie the dear knows but she loves Sam and their children. Pippin thinks she lost her Heart and that’s how she’s able to love Sam as she does.

 

The Shire isn't the same for them, for Merry and Pippin, not anymore. The simpleness of that life, with the strange strict niceties of their own kind grates on them so harshly. So they packed up and left. Living near Bree so that they can help the Men with small skirmishes here and there. Forcing his rebellious thoughts, still traveling down memory lane. He's curled up on their bed and he places his head on his knees. A sigh escapes him and he moves his chestnut hair from out in front of his eyes. Deep within his soul, he feels as if something is wrong, something is going to happen and it scares him. He doesn't want to leave Merry and he doesn't want Merry to leave him.

 

"You're thinking too loud over there, Pip," the sleep rough voice of Merry reaches him. Pippin chuckles softly raising his head from his knees.

 

"What a horrid thing to accuse me of. Thinking indeed," he tries to joke but it falls flat. Worried Merry sits up, blue eyes searching his face. Pippin molds himself into Merry's side, one hand reaching out and tracing the side of his lover's face.

 

"I have a bad feeling Merry, a very bad feeling," he confides softly.

 

Merry holds onto him tightly, kissing Pippin's head gently.

 

"I won't let anything happen to you."

 

They stay curled up within each other's embrace falling asleep until their stomachs wake them with loud gurgles. Merry kisses Pippin soundly as the younger tries to slip out of the bed. Pippin indulges Merry and kisses him back. Today they are going to be escorting a trader's caravan from Bree to a settlement close to where Rivendell use to be. He wishes he could see the elves again, they were nice and didn't judge him as the Men and fellow Hobbits did for loving Merry but... They're gone now, across the sea or hiding in the forests. Deep in memories of the past, Pippin makes breakfast not anything grand like a Hobbit would have in the Shire but simple and filling.

 

A pair of arms circle his waist and a head rests on his shoulder. Hands rub his stomach in an empty measure, no matter how hard they tried... Pippin mentally shakes his head away from those thoughts. It won't do to dwell on sad things on an already ominous day. Merry helps him dish up the meal of eggs, bacon, and toast before sitting down, pulling Pippin onto his lap. His Heart seems to pick up on his subtle thoughts for Merry kisses Pippin's neck before murmuring.

 

"The Ladies will bless us soon. We saved Middle Earth, surely she will gift us with a child. Sam has four now don't he?"

 

Pippin smiles recalling their friend’s children. He has a feeling that Sam is going to have many children.

 

"Aye, has four children and a broken heart. Perhaps the children are the Ladies way of saying sorry?"

 

Merry sighs as Pippin's voice dips toward sadness.

 

"Pip..."

 

"I'm sorry," Pippin apologizes, ducking his head.

 

"No, it's alright... You know we have some time before," Merry wiggles his eyebrows, making Pippin giggle.

 

"The bed. The table leaves the most awful bruises on my back," Pippin whispers, nipping at Merry's ear. With a loud laugh, Merry stands carrying his lover to the bedroom. Today may just be a good day, after all, is Pippin's last thought before the ability to think is taken from him. If only they stayed in bed.

 

Later, when they are deep in the forest and as they lead the caravan through the woods, they pause at the three trolls so they can boast about knowing the Hobbit that helped turn them to stone. That is when they are attacked. Not by bandits like they are expecting. But by orcs. Horrid memories pass through each Hobbit's head as the strive to keep the cursed things from the merchants who did not know how to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin plus the four armed humans guards of the caravan fight hard. Pippin with his small blade that he was given in Gondor slices any Orc that gets too close. Be it to him or to Merry, his hesitance of killing is still there but his determination to protect overrules it. Merry fights hard, his replacement sword flashing. He turns to check on Pippin, a cheeky grin on his face. Pippin smiles back at him, and then a sound that will always haunt his nightmares echoes. The sound of an arrow hitting flesh. He looks down and stares in shock at the arrow protruding from his chest. Another arrow hits him and he goes down, faintly hearing Merry yelling his name.

 

The sounds of battle dim and all he can see are blue eyes and blond hair. Pippin coughs, blood dribbling down his chin. Merry clutches him tightly, rocking back and forth.

 

"Stay with me Pip, don't you leave me. You can't leave me Pip," his lover begs.

 

Shakily he raises a hand to place it on Merry's heart.

 

"I'll always... be here... Merry."

 

And the world goes black.


	2. Merry, Merry, Where Are You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is being a stubborn mule and refuses to cooperate with me at all. Getting this was like pulling teeth so I apologize if it isn't up to standard.

When Pippin wakes up, it's to green leaves and whispered words. He frowns as he takes in the canopy. The leaves above him aren't like the leaves of the he was- Merry! With the thought of his lover he jolts up, only instead of a worried but relieved Merry he is met with the sight of thirteen Dwarrows and a single Hobbit. A Hobbit that isn't his Merry. His heart thunders as he scrambles away from the strange Dwarrows, his hand going for his sword. Only... it isn't there. The Hobbit steps forward, hands up soothingly as the Dwarrows behind the non-Merry shift. Their weapons already in their hands.

"It's alright. We won't hurt you," non-Merry soothes. The voice rings a bell from deep within his memory. A soft chest that rose up and down, the voice would crack on parts of a story. The voice from the memory echoes the passage of time.

"Would you mind telling us your name and how you got to be here?"

Pippin shakes his head slightly, his chest heaving as he remembers that voice but older saying those words, a cracked laugh escaping him.

"This isn't possible," he mutters, one hand going up to grab his hair, "It isn't. This must be a dream, a cruel dream brought on by my injuries."

He scoots back, shaking his head and still laughing. The Hobbit before him can't be Bilbo, it can't! He watched Bilbo board the ship to the Undying Lands! Plus non-Merry, possibly-Bilbo, is young, too young... Nope! Not possible. Those orc arrows must have had something on them.

"How does he know your name, Bilbo?" the gruff question jolts him out of his thoughts. The bald Dwarf with tattoos on his cheeks is the one who spoke.

"Did I say that all out loud?" he asks, his voice squeaking. One of the Dwarrows, the one with white hair and a split beard, chuckles.

"You did indeed, laddie. Now, how do you know our burglar?"

* * *

 

Balin watches the Hobbit before him warily, he said injuries yet Balin cannot see any on him. The boy shakes his head rapidly. And oh dear, Balin recognizes that shade of white the boy goes.

"This isn't real," the boy squeaks before fainting. Balin sighs as Bilbo reacts to the fainting.

"Is it normal for Hobbits to faint like that?" young Kili asks getting close to Balin.

"I don't know," Balin answers truthfully. They move the new Hobbit that seemed to materialize out of nowhere to their camp. They're on their way to the High Pass, Thorin isn't pleased with this event at all. It doesn't take long for the new Hobbit to wake from his faint. Bilbo sits next to him, gently rubbing his shoulder. This doesn't calm the Hobbit as Bilbo probably hopes it will, instead it makes him sob louder.

"You can't be Uncle Bilbo. You can't! Cause that has to mean I'm dead," the younger Hobbit cries.

"You aren't dead. You are nice and warm and very much alive. It's not very fair that you know my name but I don't know your's is it? It is also very ill-mannered that you haven't introduced yourself," Bilbo scolds softly and he's rewarded with a chuckle. This has been a lecture he has given many a new young cousin. When he notices the Dwarrows crowding around he shakes them off. It won't do to scare the poor dear.

"Peregrin Took, but you can call me Pippin."

A flash of homesickness flashes across Bilbo's face at the name.

"I'm related to a good many Tooks, but I don't think I've ever met you. Won't you tell me how you came to be here?"

Pippin bites his lip debating telling him. The words begin to pour out of his mouth. It can't hurt to tell, can it?

"Me and Merry were escorting a caravan. The merchants wanted the 'brave heroes of Rohan and Gondor' to be with them hoping we'd scare off any bandits... Should have known something would go wrong. I could feel it," Pippin whispers, his voice lilting as he speaks in the language of the Hobbits. The Dwarrows lean in to hear even though they don't understand what is being said.

"It was going so well, we were even ahead of schedule so we stopped by... We like to... We were ambushed... Orcs, I hate orcs with their bows and their arrows. Should all be dead. Shouldn't have been there," Pippin whispers. The Dwarrows watch as he reaches up to grab at his shirt.

"We were outnumbered... Six against many. Two Hobbits and four Men... But... we were winning, then thwap! Then another thwap! And then Merry is over me begging me not to leave."

Pippin shudders slightly and the Dwarrows share looks of confusion. Thorin watches it all with a grumpy frown on his face. He isn’t sure how to feel about this new Hobbit. But he can’t help but feel for this Pippin. He looks so young, like his nephews.

“How old are you?” Thorin asks from a short distance away from the two.

“I’m thirty-five.”

Thorin frowns at the sharp intake of breath Bilbo sucks in.

“So young?”

Pippin looks up and Thorin sees a look of defiance on that face he often sees on Kili’s.

“I am two years above majority, thank you. And I’ve been on a-” he cuts himself off.

“And you’ve been what?” Fili asks leaning. Pippin seems to take in his nephew, a strange look coming over his face.

“Nothing.”

“Aw come on, you can tell us,” wheedles Kili. Pippin bites his lip and Bilbo watches him. There is a particular look on the older Hobbit’s face that none of the older Dwarrows like. Pippin lifts his head, chestnut curls even wilder than Bilbo’s, and grey eyes are sparkling.

“I’ve been doing very unHobbity things. Very Tookish things. Fighting, working with Men. I am very mature for my age.”

Somehow Thorin thinks he’s in for a lot more trouble than he was in with just Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise when or if this one will get more because it's a pain in the kester.
> 
>  
> 
> **This chapter has been updated as of 6/20/2017**


	3. Merry Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was Chapter two but was updated and expanded as of 6/20/2017

Unlike his cousin and Heart, Merry enjoys the thrill of battle as much as one can enjoy killing things. He  _ enjoys  _ fighting side by side with friends. Fighting with Pippin is liking dancing with him. They flit around each other, protecting each other in wide circles. They pause, a moment's breath in the midst of battle, the greeting bow before another turn around the field. The metaphor often gets twisted in his head. He isn’t like Bilbo or like Frodo, he can’t craft with words, bringing to life worlds beyond the simple imaginations of most other Hobbits. He isn’t like Sam, able to bring forth life from land that others had given up on. He isn’t like Pippin, able to bring good cheer no matter what. The only thing he is been good at, besides eating and drinking, is been fighting. It should be like any other fight they’ve had, just replace Men with orcs and there you go. Only instead of finishing the vile villains and remaining the heroes of the caravan, he sees a big black arrow pierce his love.  _ Thwap _ .

 

It’s like a sick parody of when Boromir fell. The double thwap of the arrows, his lover falling to his knees. It’ll haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

 

"Stay with me Pip, don't you leave me. You can't leave me Pip," Merry begs. He shouldn’t be pausing in the middle of the fight. Ladies know how many people can be taken out while he is otherwise preoccupied but Merry can’t seem to bring himself to care. Not when Pippin is in his arms, bleeding, dying. Tears fill his eyes as he cries, little prayers going out.

 

Shakily Pippin raises a hand to place it on Merry's heart.

 

"I'll always... be here... Merry."

 

And then Pippin goes still as does the fight around them. They won.

 

Merry sobs loudly clutching Pippin to his chest.  _ No, no, please Yavanna don't take Pippin away _ , he begs the Valar. He prays to all of them, not just the Ladies who created the Hobbits. Pippin is his Heart. His better half can't be gone. Gently, oh so gently, Merry caresses Pippin's face wishing that his lover was just sleeping. Around him, the surviving Men have gathered the men and are standing around him. They grieve with them, silent and understanding. Then one of the traders lets out a gasp of shock looking down at Pippin. In shock, Merry looks down. Pippin's body is disappearing, his eyes widening in despair and his mind being slow to catch.

 

"No!" he shouts his mind echoing the words over and over, cursing the Valar. They took Pippin's life, they can't take Pippin's body from him! Merry clutches the body to him despite the fact that it is turning to dust.

 

The Men watch with sadness, confusion, and pain as they watch the small body of Pippin disappears. They watch as Merry who has led them against so many things, ranging from angry trader husbands to orcs, breaks down. When the traders, edgy and nervous, try to get the group to move the guards silence them with glares. Their leader deserves as much time as he needs to collect himself.

 

Merry looks up, his eyes are hollow completely devoid of the emotion his men are used to seeing. His hands are clenched at his side and he moves mechanically. There is no body to bury and Pippin is their only death.

 

"Come on, we need to get to the settlement," he rasps. His men move, and they get ready to leave. Merry's mind is on Pippin. Some of the strange copper dust his love had turned into still clings to his body. Hows and whys dance in circles in his mind, driving him mad. If only there were Elves still... Arwen! Perhaps Arwen will have the answers he so desperately seeks.

 

Never before had Merry been happier to drop off traders where they should be. He uses some of the money received for his service to buy a pony and all other things needed for an adventure. It will take some time to get to Gondor, to Minas Tirith, to Arwen. He nods his head firmly. Around him the guards say their condolences, placing their hands on his shoulders.

 

“If there is anything we can do,” one of them says trying to stall him, “You know you can ask.”

 

“I do and I am thankful. But I must be off,” Merry says with a forced smile of thanks. He’s going over what he will say to Arwen. Over how he will find off his friends smothering him in love and condolences much like now.

 

The pony between his legs snorts as he gently nudges it into a trot. It’s a long ride to where he wants to go. But it is one that he has been on before. His head begins to ache as he leaves the settlement. Memories shifting. He shakes his head and the memories go back to how they were.

* * *

 

In the dark shadows where cruel things are banished, a dark master watches with a weary gaze. Redemption is impossible for one such as himself but what he wants isn’t for himself. The weight of a thousand moons weighs down on him as he settles back into his cage in the bottom of the pit. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing. One that no one will understand. Not even  _ her. _ Lonely he watches as Merry continues on his track, no answers will be found where he is going not even the great Galadriel would know what to do. With a sigh, he turns and looks at the split he has caused. Already he can envision Varda’s angry squalling at the state of her tapestries and poor Mandos’ helpless appeasement. Pippin is being smothered by Bilbo, a small dagger given to him by Fili. It will be a long journey but maybe one that will fix many things, where sadness lies maybe light will be instead.  _ Let this work _ , he thinks doing something he hasn’t done in a very long time… hope.


	4. Playing Footsie With The Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brand new chapter! W00t!

Pippin sticks close to Bilbo’s side as they go toward a mountain that the young Hobbit would be very happy to never see again. They won’t be going through Moria, thank the Valar, but they will be climbing it. And if Bilbo’s story is to be believed it’s not going to be a pleasant journey. He trips over his feet because he’s thinking, nasty, dreadful stuff that it is and Bilbo grabs his arm.

 

“I promise I’m not normally this useless,” Pippin says softly as he straightens up. Part of him still can’t believe that he’s here and part of him is thankful. He doesn’t want to be dead, now he just has to find a way to get back to Merry. Bilbo smiles at him, and oh wow. This smile thrashes all the smiles that Bilbo had ever given him in the past… er, future. What could have happened to, no he knows the answer to that. It’s there plain as day. The way Bilbo gives sneaky appreciative looks to Thorin.

 

The urge to groan builds in him because, Nienna forgive him, he spent one adventure watching a Baggins give someone those looks. There isn’t as much love in Bilbo’s looks as there had been in Frodo’s but it is clear as day that Bilbo does have feelings for the King. That he’s  _ pining _ like a lovestruck fool.

 

“It’s alright, truly,” Bilbo says, “I’m pretty sure that they like you more than they do me at this point.”

 

Pippin looks at Bilbo in shock.

 

“It’s true. I’m not the most helpful person. A Baggins and an elf lover and all that.”

 

That makes Pippin’s nose twitch. He remembers how Gimli was before he accepted Legolas. He does not want to have to lose someone bef- no, no they accept Bilbo before anyone dies. He takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m sure they like you just fine. They listened to you didn’t they, about me?”

 

Bilbo gives him a small smile. It’s clear that the older Baggins doesn’t believe him but appreciates that he’s trying.

 

“Keep up, I won’t wait for stragglers,” Thorin snaps. He could really use some tips from Aragorn on the whole brooding leader because while Thorin has this air of majesticness his snapping and goads to walk faster come off more like an older sibling. And Pippin knows a thing or two about older siblings considering he has three! 

 

The mountain when they reach it seems to be trying to drown itself. Nonstop rain. It’s almost as bad as nonstop snow. Oh, Valar he hates it. Extremes of any conditions shouldn’t be allowed. Snuggling up to Bilbo is the only reprieve he gets from the biting coldness. He looks out at the rest of the camp. Oin and Gloin are cuddled around a dying fire that seems to burn just to spite the rain. Most of the family units stand or sit side by side. Though he can tell that some of them would rather be anywhere else. They’ve had to stop for the day which hasn’t put Thorin in the best of moods. Pippin lets his mind wonder as he looks over the groups. What draws Bilbo to Thorin? Why is Thorin nothing like the Thorin from Bilbo’s story? He shoves that to the side when he notices something interesting.

 

Nori looking like he would much rather be snuggled up to anyone but his oldest brother. Pippin tilts his head as he watches intelligent green eyes dart over to the ‘Ur family huddle. Merry had once accused Pippin of being a matchmaker. Like accidentally tripping Lindir so he fell into Elrond’s arms once or twice counts as matchmaking, and he had nothing to do with Eomer and Faramir being locked in a closet that one time… Besides Faramir married Eowyn anyways and he had  _ nothing _ to do with that either. And the less said about Aragorn and Bo- his mind stutters for a mind before continuing, Boromir the better for his heart. But as he stares at the star-haired dwarf he gets the feeling that it isn’t an overprotective and clingy brother that has Nori so focused on the three ‘Urs. Now the question is, who is Nori looking at.

 

“What are you thinking?” Bilbo asks drawing his attention from the ‘Ris.

 

“Me? Think? Please,” Pippin says with a smile. Bilbo gives him a look that when Pippin was younger always had him spilling guts. It still has the same effect.

 

“I was just wondering if maybe Nori liked one of the ‘Urs,” Pippin makes sure to speak in Hobbitish and lowly so the others can’t overhear. The shocked look on Bilbo’s face makes Pippin grin widely. The older Hobbit’s head swings about to look at Nori who is still shooting wanting looks at the other three.

 

“It’s not Bombur,” Bilbo says lowly and Pippin knows that he has someone in his not matchmaking corner. 

 

“Why not?”

 

“Bombur has a wife and children.”

 

“Huh,” Pippin says looking at Bombur. While the Dwarf is rather good looking by Hobbit standards; large belly, jovial laugh, a strong face and a cook, he hadn’t thought those would be things that Dwarves thought pleasing. Bilbo gives him a grin.

 

“It could be Bifur,” Pippin says after a while resting his chin on Bilbo’s shoulder. A loud growl has him jerking his head up and looking for what had growled. He doesn’t see an animal unless a grumpy looking Thorin counts. Slowly he places his chin back on Bilbo’s shoulder and has to bite back a grin when the grumpy look increases.

 

“It could be,” Bilbo says either ignoring or not seeing the looks they are being given by Thorin, “but I think it’s Bofur.”

 

Pippin hums lowly. Both Dwarves have their pluses, Bifur is older and wiser and seems like he could keep up with Nori, plus he has a soft side. Bifur is one who gave up some of his supplies to him. Bofur is young, clearly a fellow prankster if the glint in his eyes is any indication, and seems to be a very likable fellow. An idea springs to mind that would have Sam covering his face.

 

“What do you say about a little bet?”

 

Bilbo laughs loudly drawing the attention of the others.

 

“What do you have in mind?”


End file.
